The House at the Bottom of the Hill

by Jennie Jones

  Ted nodded, mouth pursed.

  ‘If the committee like your idea of the tourist manifesto, do you think you’d see your way clear to do all the high-level work for us?’

  ‘There’s more involved than chatting with the bigwigs, Dan.’

  Dan nodded. ‘Think it might be too big an endeavour to take on?’

  ‘I’m not saying that.’ Ted shuffled on the sofa. ‘It can be done, with the right management.’

  ‘Well, if you don’t mind my saying so, I think you’re the man for the job.’

  ‘No doubt about that,’ Ted agreed, not looking in any way modest. ‘What worries me is the money side of things.’

  Dan had that covered, but he gave Ted a chance to think things through.

  ‘We’d need to get the Town Hall finished.’ Ted counted off on his fingers. ‘We’d need someone to organise a tourist walk around the historical areas on Main Street. We’d need to get a little museum up and running somewhere, perhaps at the Town Hall. And we’d need to re-do the website. We need a sponsor.’

  ‘How about me?’

  ‘You? How?’

  ‘Kookaburra’s could sponsor your tourist manifesto.’

  Ted mulled this over, pushing his tongue into his cheek. ‘What would we owe you for doing that?’

  ‘Nothing. It’d be a business expense.’

  ‘Well. I could likely spread the idea around. Would you be willing to assist?’

  ‘Anything you’d like me to do, Ted. In fact, Charlotte’s talking to Mrs Tam and Mrs J about how they could help—if they want to.’

  ‘Oh, they’ll want to. Mrs Johnson would be the ideal person to do the history walk.’

  ‘Great idea.’

  ‘Mrs Tam could keep an eye on the museum since the petrol station is right next door to the Town Hall.’

  Dan grinned. ‘You’ve got it all sussed.’

  ‘Shame the craft centre isn’t in town.’

  ‘Yeah, but you’ve come up with some smacking good ideas. I’m impressed.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Ted crossed his feet at the ankles and laced his fingers over his comfortable stomach. ‘Wouldn’t be worth much to the committee if I didn’t have a finger or two in the networking pies up at the shire.’ He looked out on the dancing crowds. ‘You know, Dan—this idea could help everyone in town.’

  ‘Get us all moving a bit.’

  ‘We’re normally quite a cruisey bunch, but if I speak the right words to the right people, I can bring them around.’

  Dan stood and held his hand out. ‘We’re lucky to have you, Ted.’

  Ted shook Dan’s hand. ‘Give me a day or two to get something down on paper and we’ll have a meeting.’

  ‘Hey.’

  Charlotte smiled up at Daniel, happy to have him close after two hours of communication with Swallow’s Fall’s elite about the tourist manifesto they had cooked up between them yesterday at the bar. ‘How’s it going?’ she asked.

  ‘Good. Ted’s on board. Now it’s dance time.’

  ‘Not yet—I haven’t told you my news.’

  ‘Don’t want to talk, I want to dance.’

  ‘I just danced three times.’

  ‘Not with me.’

  ‘Hold your horses, Hotshot. Let a girl get her breath back, would you?’

  Charlotte expected his smirk but instead he frowned down at her. ‘Okay,’ he said, ‘this is getting kind of strange, so I’m going to ask you something outright.’

  ‘Sounds official.’

  ‘Have I been treating you badly?’

  Surprise stilled her. ‘In what way?’

  ‘Have I been giving you the impression I’m only with you for sex?’

  The way he angled his face as he waited for her answer did nothing to lessen her wariness about discussing their … association. He’d asked her the same thing yesterday. She hadn’t answered then, either.

  ‘Hey, you two.’

  Daniel took his attention off Charlotte and smiled at Sammy. ‘Hi, Gorgeous. Want to dance?’

  ‘No thanks. My bulk and I are taking it easy.’

  ‘Feeling okay?’ Charlotte asked.

  Sammy beamed her answer. ‘Just the tough last two weeks. So—why aren’t you two dancing?’

  ‘She won’t have me.’

  Sammy poked Daniel in the ribs. ‘Are you trying hard enough?’

  ‘We’re talking about our community mission,’ Charlotte interrupted, changing the subject.

  ‘Charlotte’s got Mrs Tam raving about her idea of a Sell, Swap, Trade noticeboard at the petrol station.’

  ‘And Clarissa’s keen to be in charge of the historic walks each day,’ Charlotte chipped in. ‘She’s going to bring Ruby along.’

  ‘Any ideas about the craft centre?’ Sammy asked. ‘It’s not doing good business, and I’m thinking of closing it down and creating a child-care centre instead.’

  ‘Leave it to us,’ Dan said. ‘We’ll work on the idea.’

  Sammy clapped her hands. ‘You’re quite a team. Now go dance, will you? Give the town something to gossip about. I’m going to sit down.’

  Suddenly they were alone. ‘That’s a great idea of Sammy’s,’ Charlotte said.

  ‘Yeah. It’s something that’s needed. Looks like there’s a lot of changes about to take shape and actually, I’m thinking of … kind of branching out a bit with Kookaburra’s too.’

  ‘What a good idea.’

  ‘I’d need quite a few staff members, though, if I expand the business.’

  ‘There are heaps of smart people around town. I don’t think you’d have a problem staffing your … pub.’

  Daniel turned to her. He caught her hand. ‘Charlotte, about us. Some people already know about—about the nice time we’re enjoying.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘The thing is—are we enjoying it?’

  He was bringing up issues as though they had a proper relationship, not a liaison.

  ‘Of course we’re enjoying it,’ she said in a lowered voice. ‘I mean, you’re always gentlemanly. I always feel respected and liked.’

  ‘I do like you. Very much.’

  ‘I like you too, Daniel.’

  ‘So if we value each other so much, what’s going on here?’

  She shook her head but still couldn’t meet his gaze. ‘I don’t know.’

  He drew a deep breath and turned his attention to the room. ‘Okay. I’m really feeling the strain now.’

  ‘Behaving?’ Grandy asked.

  ‘Doing my best not to.’ Dan slipped into the seat next to Grandy. ‘And you? Hope you’re being a perfect house guest.’

  ‘Doing my bit. Thanks for offering to put in the old-age equipment at my place. Real good of you.’

  Dan laughed. ‘I’m gonna hide that twenty-foot ladder too.’

  Grandy shucked that off with a smile. ‘How’s your apartment?’

  ‘Jesus.’ Dan shook his head. ‘You know I’m not building an apartment, don’t you?’

  ‘Reckon you’d be wasting the space. Reckon you could use that space for something more viable.’

  ‘Like a hotel.’ Dan wasn’t going to hide anything from Grandy. Didn’t even feel the need.

  ‘So when are you going to tell folk?’

  Dan sucked in air. ‘Got a few things to sort out first, but soon.’

  ‘Heard about some of the conversations you and Charlotte have been having with people. Good ideas coming out of you both.’

  ‘I’m glad you approve.’

  ‘I do.’ Grandy paused, then took a breath that sounded arduous. ‘Best be quick though. Property seems to be moving.’

  ‘Whose property?’

  Grandy turned his gaze to Dan. ‘The B&B. Didn’t Charlotte tell you? She’s put it up for sale.’

  Charlotte looked around the room. Night had settled inside as well as outside. The balmy evening air drifted through the opened windows. The bunting fluttered in magical waves and the glitter ball sprinkled starlight over the floor and the walls. Bubbles of ligh
t skipped over the heads of the quietened townspeople as the soft, jazzy blues playing on the jukebox turned as sultry as the evening.

  She caught Daniel’s eye. He left his place by the top committee table—plates and platters now almost empty, lonely sandwiches and party pies sitting among the crumbs—and headed for her.

  Dancing couples paid no attention to him as he wove his way through, lost in their own dreams and the satisfaction of a successful evening.

  ‘This is it. We’re going to dance now. I’m not taking any more refusals.’

  The night was nearly over; her moments of freedom about to come to an end. ‘Yes please.’ She stepped into his opened arms.

  ‘You’re beautiful. Have I told you?’

  ‘About five times.’ And the thrill of each would sit with her forever.

  ‘Had a good evening?’

  ‘Yes.’ Wonderful.

  ‘So can you do me a favour?’ His hand firmed at her back. ‘Pretend you’re with me. Really with me,’ he whispered, his mouth close to her ear.

  She gave in and drew the moment deep inside her as Daniel danced her around the room. To be remembered forever.

  He stopped them by one of the opened windows but he didn’t take his arms from around her.

  ‘Charlotte,’ he whispered, his scrutiny soft but committed. ‘I want more of you.’

  Music floated over her in curls of emotion. The gentle rhythm of the singer’s voice spoke of dreams and wishes and pennies from heaven. But not her heaven. ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Don’t say that.’

  She pulled from him. ‘We can’t be seen together.’

  ‘I don’t want us to be a secret any longer.’

  ‘I’m not staying, Daniel.’

  The light in his eyes dimmed. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I have to go. I need to walk Grandy home.’

  ‘Charlotte, don’t leave like this.’

  She’d dressed for him this evening, not for herself. Her pride in her appearance had always been for her own sense of self but tonight, as she’d slipped into the dress, she’d been thinking only of how Daniel would see her. And now he was asking for more— but she wouldn’t be around for more. She couldn’t let this go any further. Her few hours of respite were over.

  ‘This wasn’t supposed to happen, Daniel.’

  ‘What?’ he asked, taking hold of her hands.

  Charlotte bit into her bottom lip.

  ‘What?’ he asked again.

  Love. She wasn’t supposed to fall in love.

  Eighteen

  Dan wandered the lonely path home, his jacket slung over his shoulder. She had a list of excuses as long as the street for not going public with him. She had to leave. Had to protect her reputation. Had to walk her guest home.

  Bullshit.

  She hadn’t meant she had to leave the party without him, she’d meant she was leaving town. She’d put the B&B up for sale, for Christ’s sake. She wanted him to take Lucy. She’d been sorting out the lives of the townspeople. Why do that if she intended to leave? Did she want to make redress for something?

  He unlocked the back door of Kookaburra’s and headed for his bedroom, pulling a cold beer out of the corridor refrigerator as he passed. Burning some midnight oil might ease his frustration. He flung his jacket on the study table in his bedroom, sat, and fired up his laptop. He checked the real estate pages first.

  There it was. Too damned easy to find.

  For Sale: Charming bed and breakfast business, tucked away in small town in the Snowy Mountains. Rare opportunity to leave the bustle of the city behind and head into the heart of the High Country to run your own business. Quaint town, unique atmosphere, tourist attractions abound in the vicinity of Swallow’s Fall. The house offers the owner a comfortable home. Two ensuite bedrooms offer guests peace and tranquillity. For more information …

  ‘Jesus.’ He took a swig of his beer and deliberated leaving it be. Letting his need for a relationship with Charlotte go. Letting her leave.

  Look at your mother. His father’s words came to him and sent him back, once again, into his childhood.

  ‘Yeah, Dad. I hear you.’

  Look at Red, Dan had been saying to himself all night. Look at Charlotte. Look at my girl. He’d watched her dance with others, chat with others, laugh with others. He’d followed her every move around the dance floor of the Town Hall, studying her from every angle. The way that sexy dress swayed between her legs. The way her cherry-red mouth curved into a smile on her pale face. A goddamn beautiful face. And he couldn’t deny it any longer.

  He was bug-eyed in love with her. Eyes burning just looking at her, heartstrings pulling when he touched her. Completely in love.

  He put his beer down. If he was going to win her, he’d have to venture into her history so he understood how to handle all the messy situations without hurting her, or himself. Nah, stuff hurting himself—he was hurting now, and if she left he’d be hurting for a lot longer than a few hours in a sleepless night.

  He opened the electronic folder on the desktop where he’d stored the information he’d found to date. Words bounced from the screen to his mind. Lost … Thriving home and small business … Forsters … Manipulating a situation by bullying … Miss Simmons’ past … Australian-born …

  Only one avenue he hadn’t searched yet: Charlotte’s childhood in Australia. He opened up a new tab and typed into the search engine: Charlotte Simmons, news reports, Australia—and the year—twenty-three years ago.

  One million, three hundred and eighty thousand results in 0.44 seconds.

  ‘Jesus.’ The night sprawled ahead of him.

  He found what he’d been looking for at four a.m.

  His chest tightened as he read the article from the online archives. The words swam in his vision. He scrunched his eyes tightly closed, released the pressure and read it again.

  Woman murdered. Child, 6, hides in wardrobe at scene

  A 6-year-old has been taken into custody after being discovered in the wardrobe of her mother’s bedroom, where it is believed she hid while her mother was killed. The victim, a 32-year-old British-born Australian resident and single mother, was strangled to death. The gruesome discovery was made by a neighbour in the early hours of the morning.

  It is unsure if this was a planned attack or a domestic dispute gone terribly wrong. Fingerprints of a suspect have been found at the scene, both in the bedroom where the tragedy took place, and in other areas of the small house in Campbelltown, in Sydney’s southwest.

  It is believed the suspect is known to police and wanted for vicious attacks on two other women eleven and eighteen months ago. To date, the suspect has not been found. Police are advising it’s likely he has fled interstate. Police have interviewed residents of a town in the Snowy Mountains where the suspect is believed to have lived and the investigation continues.

  Meanwhile, the child, who has become known as Charley Red, is in foster care while she awaits the arrival of her maternal grandmother, who is travelling from England.

  Dan’s breath wouldn’t come. His heart pounded but his lungs had collapsed at ‘Charley Red, is in foster care …’ Charlotte. Sweetheart. God almighty.

  The black and white photograph alongside the news report showed reporters jostling against two women in suits, their arms around a child wrapped in a blanket large enough to trip her up, but not pulled high enough over the child’s head to cover a tumble of sepia-coloured long hair. Titian hair; so different in hue, it stood out even in black and white.

  He typed in a new search: Swallow’s Fall, suspect, police, murder.

  Alleged murderer Thomas O’Donnell found dead south of Canberra

  O’Donnell, 56, a drifter described by police as violent with malicious intent had served two jail sentences for attacks on women in the Northern Territory. He was also wanted for questioning in relation to the murder of Campbelltown single mother, Lillian Simmons, three years ago. At the time of the murder, police were unable to loca
te O’Donnell whose fingerprints were found in the flat where Ms Simmons lived with her only child, and believed he had fled interstate.

  O’Donnell’s last registered address was Burra Burra Lane, Swallow’s Fall, where he lived before abandoning his family. It is believed police will return to the rural town in the Snowy Mountains to once again question residents and possibly close the murder case.

  Ms Simmons’ child was in foster care after the killing and was then taken to Britain by her maternal grandmother, Olivia Simmons.

  Dan pushed his study chair back from the desk. Six years old. Man, how could any kid go through such torment and get out of it the other side?

  ‘Twenty-five minutes, Lucy.’ Charlotte jogged on the spot at the top of the hillside, Lucy darting around her legs. ‘Getting faster.’ They’d taken the back route up the hill this morning, although the dog had been up to the top twice, pelting back to Charlotte as though encouraging her to keep going. But there was no satisfaction in Charlotte’s endeavours. She looked down at the town below and came to a standstill, her heartbeat still racing.

  Swallow’s Fall, a dot on the map with one street and less than a dozen establishments. But it didn’t look lost in the folds of the countryside, it looked settled.

  ‘Oh, God,’ she said quietly. ‘Look at it.’ Love hung in the air on the hillside and inside Charlotte’s heart.

  The flamingo pink of the B&B stood out against the darker hues of royal blue, stately grey and lemony-yellow of the town’s businesses. Even from this distance, the little house at the northern end of Main Street looked special.

  The townspeople weren’t hanging on to traditions because they were frightened of growth or scared of change. They didn’t see themselves as disadvantaged—they saw themselves as lucky. A strong community, one Charlotte found deeply heroic. And one to which she didn’t belong.

  Pointless hiding the truth from herself any longer, out here on the bluff of the hillside, surrounded by nothing but summer. Last night she’d fallen. In Daniel’s arms, beneath the bunting and the glitter-ball in the funny old Town Hall, with sultry jazz playing on a jukebox. She’d fallen desperately in love with him.

  ‘Bad timing, Red,’ she murmured. ‘Real bad timing.’

  I want more of you, Charlotte.